


Catmint

by tincanicarus



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Cat Tony, Gift Fic, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), M/M, Pepper is a hero, also cat cuddling yay!, because MAGIC, cat turning human, the most explicit thing in here is brief talk of barbed dicks, you can blame Tony for that of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tincanicarus/pseuds/tincanicarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I got a cat that hates me."<br/>Everyone agrees this could only ever happen to Jarvis.</p><p>(This is a kitty fic like you've never seen before. I promise.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catmint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sneakingfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakingfox/gifts).



“Jarvis, how long are you living here now?” Pepper frowns in that way of hers that Jarvis knows means she is not satisfied with what she sees, but too polite to say it directly. He looks around his living room himself, then, not seeing any immediate disasters.

Really, his place is rather clean.

“Three years,” he admits, not without reluctance, but knowing there’s no way around it. When Pepper turns her frown towards him, he squirms a little under her gaze.

“That is simply not acceptable, Jarvis. Do I need to take you to IKEA?”

“No, thank you, Pepper,” Jarvis responds, a small smile curling around his lips, “I’ve got everything I need.”

Pepper does a little huff, and Jarvis chuckles. They’ve become unlikely friends thanks to work - Pepper is the highly qualified PA of a high-standing society’s CEO (with rumors that she might be appointed CEO herself), and Jarvis is head of the IT department.

“Maybe. It just looks so… bare,” the redhead points out, still frowning a little, and shaking her head at Jarvis’ shrug.

“Really, Jarvis, your place doesn’t look lived in at all. At least get a pet. You’re too much of a loner.”

“A pet?” Jarvis wrinkles his nose. “I’ll think about it. Coffee?”

-

It's two weeks later that, the idea never having quite left his mind, Jarvis finally makes it to the local shelter. He doesn't know what he's looking for, if he even wants an animal, and tells the young woman that greets him as much as "I'll just look around, if that's alright?"

  
  
"Sure," she says, smiling at him, "I like to talk to squirrels, so I don't see why you shouldn't be able to talk to our cats."

  
  
"Uh." Jarvis blinks, mildly concerned, but the young woman - teenager? - only grins and pops her gum, then does a wide gesture to indicate their surroundings. "Go wild, mister. If I catch you talking to the goldfish, I won't tell anyone about it."

  
  
She steps at his side, still grinning. "We don't really have goldfish. You'd probably have to go to the pet shop for those."

  
  
The only reaction she gets is Jarvis slowly blinking at her, then dismissing her apparent quirkiness. This is New York, he's seen weirder - and instead of commenting on goldfish, he points at something behind her.

  
  
"What about that one?"

 

"Oh, Ninja!" There's a black cat with gleaming yellow eyes - they look almost golden, but Jarvis can't be too sure - sitting on a shelf. Jarvis wouldn't have noticed the animal at all if it wasn't for the swishing of the tail.

 

The young woman sighs, putting her hands on her hips. "That's Ninja. He's the actual devil." For some reason, she sounds vaguely fond as she says that. "No cat ever scratched me that long and with such vicious intent. Came to us a right mess, Jessica almost barfed, chest wound, and when I say wound I mean I could see into the little guy's chest."

 

What a gruesome story - which the woman seems to be retelling with just a hint of too much relish - but it only lets Jarvis' eyebrows knit together.

 

"I called him Ninja because there is no cage that can hold him. Sure, we've all seen cats open doors, but that one? Escapes from _everywhere_. Always perched somewhere being quiet. Doesn't get along with anyone, and really picky eater-- I'm putting you off, aren't I? I shouldn't do that, he's a great cat!"  
  


She obviously picked up on his interest, and Jarvis shakes his head vaguely, wondering what Pepper would say if she learned that he picked the most antisocial cat he could possibly find. If he didn't know better, he'd say the feline is narrowing its eyes at him.  
  


"He's been here for a while?"  
  


"Yeah." And there, a touch of sadness fills the young woman's voice. "And I mean, sure, he's a dick, but I still don't want to see him put down, y'know?"  
  


Big, sad eyes get turned on him and Jarvis knows he's not gonna fight.  
  


He's getting a cat that's worse at being friendly and outgoing than he is. A voice in his head which sounds oddly like Pepper sighs at him extensively even as he nods. "Alright, how much do you want?"  
  


"Oh my god, really?!" The young woman bounces on her feet, smiling widely, and sticks her hand out to him, which Jarvis accepts with some bemusement, letting her words wash over him. "Hi, my name's Doreen, I love you, this is brilliant! Ninja's going home! Have you heard, Ninja?"  
  


Doreen turns to salute the cat, which hisses, but the young woman isn't affected, just laughing and taking off. Jarvis meets the cat's eyes, and they just stare at each other - this, Jarvis reflects, is probably the moment in time when he should question his life choices. If the cat's posture is anything to go by, the feline thinks so, too.  
  


But Jarvis' brooding is interrupted by Doreen re-appearing in the room, pushing a cat carrier into his hand. “Alright, once we get him into there, you cannot take your eyes off of him for _one_ second. I know it looks physically impossible, but he’ll free himself the moment you’re not looking.”

Jarvis nods, not quite believing he’s doing this, while at the same time somehow absolutely sure that this is _right_. Rescuing this cat is something he feels he almost needs to do, and Jarvis has no clue where that feeling came from or what to do with it. He never felt a particular impulse to pick up stray kitties before.

“He’s had all his shots and is chipped, we basically had to tranquilize him to make that possible, he was already neutered when he came here, as far as I know the only thing he’ll eat is tuna, but you’ll probably have to experiment, he really doesn’t eat enough, and,” she looks up at him, hesitating for a breath, “just, y’know, have loads of patience with him. All the patience you have and then double that.”

This time, Jarvis smiles. “I know, cats don’t like to be moved, he’ll need time to get used to the new environment. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll get along.”

Doreen breathes a deep breath, nodding and mumbling at that. “Also, make sure you _lock_ any doors you don’t want him to open, don’t expect any cupboards to be safe-- that’s all, I think. Do you need a list?”

“I think I’ll be alright.”  
  


“Cool, cool. Now, if you could and get him down from there? I can’t reach up there.” She smiles at him, and Jarvis has no choice but to put the carrier down and walk over to the side of the room, where golden eyes are now staring at him, wide and seemingly suspicious, which is only fair.

“Hey,” he says to the cat, lowering his voice as if wanting this to be private between him and the black cat, and gets a hiss in response. The blond smiles, and grabs the cat before ‘Ninja’ is even finished hissing, figuring that quick reactions will be the best course of action - the cat meows, surprised, then growls, and gets in a few good scratches across Jarvis’ forearms before he manages to secure the cat, a hand over the feline’s neck to immobilize him.

Doreen is looking at them both with wide eyes even as Jarvis carefully puts the growling cat into the carrier, her voice almost awed: “Yeah, I think you’ll be fine.”

Then she lowers her head to peek through the carrier at a very disgruntled cat. “Bye, you jerk. I’ll kinda miss you, I don’t think I’ll ever meet a cat again whose scratch marks I can brag about for _months_.”

When Doreen straightens again she smiles at Jarvis, and pulls out forms. “Sign here, here, and here, and I need a hundred dollars.”

-

Jarvis does take the warning serious and keeps an eye on the carrier at all times even while buying food bowls, a water bowl and various types of cat food, after a look at the kitty litter boxes asking the store clerk whether he can have one of those delivered.

The cat is suspiciously quiet, probably waiting for the best moment to escape and make off, and it is a pure relief when he finally closes the door of his apartment behind him. When he puts the carrier down, opening the door, he half expects the cat to take off like a rocket, but instead he gets golden eyes staring at him and growls.

“Be like that, then,” Jarvis tells the feline, vaguely amused, and goes to set up the food and water bowls. First impression of the cat in his home: the little guy is _stubborn_. Still sitting in the carrier when the doorbell rings and a broad-shouldered man hands him the litter box and some kitty litter to go with, which Jarvis accepts with a thanks and gives the other a little tip - just in case delivering cat toilets is as frustrating a job as it looks.

It’s after setting up the litter box in the bathroom - he thinks the cat will appreciate some privacy to do their business - that he returns to the kitchen and the carrier is empty, the yellow eyes staring at him from the kitchen counter.

“You’re not supposed to be up there,” Jarvis feels obliged to point out, and as he walks over, the cat jumps off, hissing. Using the moment to study the cat, Jarvis inwardly agrees with Doreen’s assessment - he’s way too thin, and decision made, Jarvis opens a bag of chicken cat food.

Which the cat ignores entirely.

“How am I going to make you like me if you ignore the food, cat?” Jarvis asks, pursing his lips as the cat begins cleaning its face, completely ignoring him. “This will take time.”

-

Only four days later, after many fleeting touches, soft speaking, and figuring out that the cat will eat the really expensive cat meals with at least some semblance of enthusiasm (especially the salmon one), can Jarvis touch his pet without any immediate growling and taking off - Jarvis smiles, knowing the feline is sleepy and having no qualms at all for taking advantage of the fact.

“You know, I refuse to call you _Ninja_ ,” he says, reaching to scratch under the cat’s chin, “you’re much too sophisticated and high maintenance for a name like that. How about… how about Sir?”

The cat gives Jarvis the first purr ever, which is probably in response to the fingers still scratching under his chin, but Jarvis takes it as agreement anyways, smiling. “I’m glad you like it, Sir.”

-

He will admit, Pepper was right about something missing in his home. Jarvis would never have figured it out on his own, but coming home and being greeted with a meow which probably means _“Human! You’re late. Feed me.”_ is oddly fulfilling.

When he tells Pepper as much, the redhead’s head snaps up to look at him in surprise, the phone in her hand forgotten. “When did you get a cat?”

“Last month.”

“ _Really?_ Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“Because I would’ve had to tell you that I got a cat that hates me.”

Pepper laughs so loudly some people outside of her office turn their heads curiously. Jarvis just smiles and agrees with a nod that this could _only possibly happen to him_ and he needs to buy Pepper a coffee and tell him about his cat-related adventures.

Of course, Pepper comes by the next day, to throw a look at Jarvis’ new roommate. “Only you would call a cat ‘Sir’, really, Jarvis,” the woman chides, smiling despite herself, and when she crouches down to pet the cat, Sir starts purring immediately.

“Now I just feel cheated,” Jarvis says.

Pepper simply laughs again, and Jarvis could have sworn that Sir was giving him a smug look, too. Jarvis is probably imagining things - but he still feels slightly affronted. That is, until Sir leaves Pepper’s side to brush against Jarvis’ legs, letting the blond’s irritation melt away like butter in a hot pan.

“You both seem to get along fantastic now,” Pepper remarks, straightening again, “you said you had some tough beginnings?”

“Indeed,” Jarvis replies, lips twisting as he bends to stroke along the cat’s spine, Sir pushing into the touch, “he had a mean temper, almost didn’t eat or drink at all, and did not like to be touched. He has probably been abused.”

“Poor Sir,” is Pepper’s response, and Jarvis smiles at her using the name he chose.

-

The first time Jarvis tries to put the collar on him, Sir almost bites off his finger.

It ends up being an entire evening of Jarvis lying on his belly in front of his plushy arm chair (which, probably not a coincidence, Sir just loves to keep occupied when he wants to sit in it), trying to coax the feline from its hiding place under the chair. Sir’s black fur blends in so well it’s only his bright golden eyes which allow Jarvis to even pinpoint him, the collar between them, while Jarvis explains why exactly he wants Sir to wear a collar with Jarvis’ number on it.

“Let’s be honest, Sir, it’s only a matter of time before you decide you’re bored here by yourself while I’m at work and make off out of the bathroom window, and when you’re not wearing the collar, you’ll be mistaken for a stray, maybe moved to another shelter, and I won’t find you again.”

The cat stares at Jarvis, unblinking. At least Sir seems to be paying attention.

“I’ll make sure it’s not too tight or uncomfortable, you’ll get used to it quickly. And besides, I’m sure you’ll look absolutely _dashing_.”

A low meow.

“Of _course_ you’re already a very handsome cat, Sir, but the collar won’t hurt.”

Sir remains put, apparently unconvinced, but after a couple more reassurances from Jarvis that he’s the best-looking black cat he’s ever seen etcetera, the feline moves from its hiding place, though his tail still swishes in displeasure when Jarvis puts the collar on.

It’s bright red, with a golden tag.

“Thank you, Sir,” Jarvis says, scratching the cat lightly between its ears, feeling like Sir let him do that more because he felt his human was being way too insistent about him not finding home again on his four own paws rather than actually agreeing the collar was a good idea.

Jarvis is probably humanising his cat entirely too much.

-

Jarvis’ next birthday is celebrated by Pepper pulling him out of his work by the ear for Chinese lunch. She gives him a beautiful agenda for next year, and while Jarvis is still admiring the bound cover, the redhead leans over the table, fixing him, her voice stern. “And, really, Jarvis, remember to do yourself some good. Just little things, but do it every day.”

Really, Jarvis is so touched, he goes a little teary-eyed, Pepper smiling and leaning back again. “If you change your mind about looking for a girl- or boyfriend _this_ year, my offer of being your wingwoman still stands.” The moment is gone, Jarvis almost spewing his tea over the table with his unexpected laughter.

Pepper simply wrinkles her nose at him and passes him a napkin.

“We’ve talked about how unnecessary and potentially harmful the idea is that you’re worth nothing without a romantic relationship, Pepper.”

“Yes, and I stand by that. But you’re terrible at making friends, your family is overseas… I just worry about you. Even if a romantic relationship isn’t the thing for you, we could go out together, meet some people.”

“I don’t like parties, Ms. Potts.”

“Oh, I am aware. You are a difficult man, Mr Thompson.”

“Pepper,” and Jarvis reaches out, his hand on hers, “thank you, really, for this, for being my friend. You’re very dear to me, but please don’t worry about me. I am a grown up, and I can take care of myself. Besides, you’ve met Felicia, right?”

“The blonde that came by the other day? Is she--?”

“No, just friends,” Jarvis corrects, smiling at Pepper’s exaggerated sigh, “but we are friends. I’m not alone or helpless. Really, Pepper, I feel it’s since you’ve started being courted by a certain Harold Hogan that you want everybody around you to fall in love as well.”

Pepper blushes, not denying it. “Not everybody. Just the people that are important to me.”

-

After Jarvis leaves from work that day, he still has her voice in her ear, about how she worries and would like to have him simply have someone (not in those exact words, but the message’s been pretty clear), and it’s a little annoying he doesn’t seem to know what he thinks of the idea, really.

All Jarvis knows is that he’s not interested in just picking up a stranger off the street.

Shaking off the thought, Jarvis turns to walk towards Chinatown. He’s had some delicious coconut buns for dessert after dinner with Pepper, and itches to try out making them himself. The ingredients are found easily enough, and it puts Jarvis’ mind off of his sad lack of love life, putting him in much better spirits when walking quickly past some booths in the middle of the street.

He tends to avoid people offering him hand readings for money-- but before he’s made it quite past the last booth, a scratchy voice in a rich accent Jarvis can’t place calls out “happy birthday, young man,” and Jarvis can’t quite help his feet slowing to a stop, throwing the small woman a confused look - and yes, she’s looking straight at him, beckoning him closer.

Even as he hesitatingly walks towards her, Jarvis tries to rationalise what’s happening. Maybe this lady sits here all day wishing people a happy birthday, better able to sell off her voodoo when she lands a lucky strike?

“I’m not interested in a hand reading,” he tells the woman, feeling a little uncomfortable, wondering why he even did step closer.

“I know,” she replies, still in that scratchy voice, and there’s something undeniably intriguing about that, “let me just wish you a happy birthday, yes? Come, young man, let me touch your heart.”

She reaches out, pressing her palm to his chest through Jarvis’ suit, the blond freezing on the spot. The woman hums, smiling at him. “You have a special cat.”

Jarvis blinks, confused, bringing his brows together. “Sir?” He feels ridiculously out of his depth, and it doesn’t help when the woman clicks her tongue at him.

“Not a bad name, but not the only one he has. Mister, do you have a birthday wish?”

“I-- I don’t--”

Her hand is still on his chest and Jarvis feels profoundly uneasy, never having been especially good with physical contact.

“I see,” the woman smiles up at him, removing her hand from his chest, but somehow managing to grab Jarvis’ hand, putting it between her own. “No simple wish, but you shall receive it. Good evening.”

Jarvis is positive he has absolutely no idea what just happened. And it is strange, to get dismissed like that - he didn’t even get some sort of horoscope reading, and neither did the woman ask anything of him, all she did was touching him and speaking in riddles.

_This is New York. Crazy people are hardly a novelty._

__

But still, and no matter how Jarvis rationalises it, his chest seems to tingle weirdly, and as does his hand, all the way back to his apartment, where Sir greets him with a meow, and Jarvis bends to pet him in greeting, the strange encounter pushed out of his mind when the cat gifts him with a purr.

Purring is really very comforting. If nothing else, at least one can be sure to have some of the cat’s approval (even if Sir doesn’t even seem mildly interested in Jarvis telling him about today being his birthday).

When Jarvis goes to bed that night, Sir jumps on the bed to curl his warm, fluffy little body against the man’s chest, and Jarvis falls asleep smiling. Concerning what happened after he went to buy what he would need for his coconut buns, Jarvis doesn’t think of it after that. At least, not until a week later.

Which, not a coincidence, is when he wakes up to a stranger obviously just getting out of Jarvis’ bed.

For a moment, Jarvis thinks he’s still dreaming, half convinced to just shut his eyes again and will the image away, but instead he blinks, studying the other’s wry frame, down his back and fixates a pair of nicely formed butt-cheeks.

Jarvis feels his cheeks heat up uncomfortably, and sits up with a start, making the stranger look at him over his shoulder, deeply brown eyes blinking lazily. “Who-- who are you?”

The man smiles, slow and charming, way more at ease than a naked burglar has any right to be. _If he is a burglar, what was he doing in my bed? Oh dear lord._ “You only think to ask that now? Idiot.” Blinking, Jarvis frowns - he’s just been insulted, but in a soft, almost affectionate tone which doesn’t make sense at all coming from someone he doesn’t know.

“What the hell?”

This, the other man seems to consider with an amusedly raised eyebrow. “You don’t swear very often. So unsettled by me being human? Anthony. Tony, for short. Though to jog your memory--”

Tony holds something up, and it takes Jarvis a couple moments to realise what it is. Sir’s collar. “What have you done to my cat? What--”

Unbidden, the memory crosses his mind. _You have a special cat. Not a bad name, but not the only one he has. No simple wish, but you shall receive it._

Jarvis has frozen in place, his knuckles almost going white from how he is balling them into his sheets, and only when Tony moves onto the bed again, heedless of his nakedness, to softly cradle Jarvis’ face in his hands, does he become aware he’s momentarily stopped breathing.

“Sir.” He sounds almost pained, Jarvis himself surprised by the emotion in his voice. It’s just-- it’s simply too much. _This doesn’t happen outside of fairy tales, oh god._

“Shh, just breathe. Look at me, Jarvis, okay, you already are looking at me, but um, try to focus. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just, I really need the toilet.”

An apologetic smile, and Jarvis is staring into those brown eyes, unable to wrap his brain around what he’s seeing. “I don’t--”

“Alright, here’s the deal: I’m gonna use your toilet - do you allow peeing while standing? No? Right, sitting down it is, plus washing my hands, gimme two minutes. Don’t give yourself a headache thinking about this too hard, in fact, don’t think at all for two minutes, and I’ll be right back.”

Tony waits for Jarvis to give the tiniest nod, then smiles and all but jumps off the bed, racing to the bathroom. All Jarvis can think of was that the other is still completely naked, and otherwise his mind stays blank, just like Tony said. Who would’ve thought how easy it would be to follow an order of _don’t think at all?_

When Tony comes skidding back into the room, he almost runs straight into the bedpost, only just saving his face by way of grabbing it - but he still lets out a yowl of pain which has Jarvis on edge immediately. “Sir-- Tony, are you alright?”

“No,” the dark-haired man whines, flopping on the bed and shoving his foot onto Jarvis’ thigh, “my foot, it broke!”

Jarvis prods a little at the other’s foot, and even though Tony whimpers a bit through it, he seems to be able to move all of his toes and the rest of his foot without problem. “You just stubbed your toe,” is Jarvis’ final verdict, amused despite himself, “hardly anything to make such a fuss over.”

“Well, it hurt,” Tony huffs, wiggling his toes as if checking himself, then, satisfied, pulls the foot away from Jarvis, shifting so he is lying in a way so he can look up at Jarvis. “So, hi. Questions, you have them, hit me.”

But Jarvis’ eyes get glued to the other’s chest, where there’s a criss-crossing of scars prominently displayed, the only thing taking his attention off of it being a deep sigh on Tony’s end. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright,” Jarvis replies, almost reaching out to touch it, before becoming aware of what he’s doing and snatching his hand back quickly. “You-- you are my cat.”

“Was,” Tony replies in a lazy drawl, a smirk playing around his lips. “Rather less fur on me now. But you can still pet me.” And here Tony grabs Jarvis’ hand, putting it on top of his head. “Bring it on.”

Disappointingly, instead of actually petting, Jarvis pulls his hand back. “This is inappropriate.”

“What?”

“You’re a stranger -”

“ _What._ ” Tony’s voice has gone flat in under 0.2 seconds, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“- and I am losing my mind. I am seeing things. You aren’t actually here. Maybe I’m dreaming.”

The silence stretches between them, and Jarvis itches, all-too aware of the other’s eyes focused on him. It’s unsettling, to be the centre of that much balled-up concentration, nevermind that he’s now _completely_ humanised his cat in his head. Dear lord, Jarvis needs to see a shrink _yesterday_ -

“People usually scream when confronted with someone naked in their hallway, right?”

It’s Jarvis turn to blink at the other, uncomprehending, but Tony just nods at himself, swinging his legs out of the bed again. “Right. I’ll just walk into the hallway, and if you hear people scream, you know they saw a naked dude, not a cat, and you’re not any more crazy than you’ve been yesterday. Or something.”

Nothing about this makes any sense whatsoever, and Jarvis opens his mouth, needing a few moments before the words actually make it out of his mouth. “Tony, no!”

“Why not?” The answer comes flippantly, “I personally rather have people screaming than reducing me to a _figment of their imagination._ ”

Tony looks - angry, maybe even a little hurt. It’s difficult to tell, after all, Jarvis isn’t used to the… human version of his cat. Even so, it’s enough to make him feel guilty. He didn’t mean to say something hurtful. “Because you’ve got to be a little patient with me here. This is all very sudden and very strange.” When Tony steps back into the room, Jarvis huffs, determinedly keeping his eyes on the other’s face. “Please put on at least some underwear.”

“Your underwear?” Tony sounds nothing but mildly intrigued, taking Jarvis’ lack of response for a yes before stepping over to the wardrobe. “Where do you keep-- ah, found them!”

When he turns around, the man-cat wears a pair of shorts that Jarvis himself never wears, which is a little relief. Underwear-sharing is a slightly worrying concept for the blond. He’ll have to go clothes shopping, it seems, finally deciding to get out of bed himself, only to get confronted with Tony’s big eyes giving him a mournful stare. “What… is it?”

“You don’t want me to walk around naked and you’re not petting me.”

Well, the request is pretty evident, and Jarvis is on his way to the wardrobe anyways, it probably won’t hurt to just… give the other a pet on the way past. He’s more than a little surprised when Tony makes a rumbling sound - he _actually_ purrs - and leans into the touch.

Despite his original intentions, Jarvis finds himself utterly enchanted, drawing his hand through the other’s soft, dark locks multiple times before drawing away again, Tony - Sir - he needs to decide what he’s going to call the other in his head - blinking slowly, a lazy smile on his lips.

It takes more willpower than Jarvis would’ve thought to turn away from that look, pulling out a simple shirt and simple trousers out of his wardrobe - thank goodness today’s Saturday and he’s not required to go to work - deciding to dress quickly, all too aware of the other’s presence in the room. With that thought in mind, he reaches into the wardrobe for a second pair of shirt and trousers, holding it out to Tony.

“Hm?” is all the reaction he gets, the man-cat obviously just discovering how easy and nice it is to scratch the spot just behind his ear with a human hand. Jarvis finds his lips curling up in amusement.

“Put those on… Sir. You need to compensate not having as much fur.”

Tony rolls his head on his neck, sending Jarvis a smirk. “Sounds perfectly reasonable,” he drawls, in a tone that suggests he doesn’t particularly agree, but before Jarvis can open his mouth to argue, the man-cat has taken the pair of trousers off his hands and is slipping into them without any more fuss, and when he notices that Jarvis’ gaze has been drawn back to his scarred chest, Tony grabs for the shirt quickly and turns around to put it on.

Right. That kind of behaviour doesn’t really make any sense, seeing how Tony has had no problem parading around completely nude for the last couple minutes, but then he’s been a cat yesterday, and cats don’t always feel inclined to make a whole lot of sense with their behaviour in general, do they?

“Do you know what happened to you?”

“You know, we should talk about this-- over food.”

“But--”

“ _Feed me._ ”

At first, Tony is suspicious of the pancakes - “is there even any meat in this?” - but once he tries a bite, he easily devours one after another, reaching for the last one with his fork when noticing that a) Jarvis is giving him a wide-eyed stare and b) he’s reaching for the last pancake, and Jarvis hasn’t eaten any, which makes him draw his arm back sheepishly, and muss his hair with his free hand.

“Sorry. I feel like I’m eating for the first time ever. Can I have milk?”

Jarvis gets up, fills a cup with milk and puts it in front of Tony, all without even considering questioning what he’s doing, or why. He stays standing there, in front of Tony’s seat, only a little awkwardly, staring at the man-cat drinking milk as if it was the best thing that ever happened to him. Their eyes meet over Tony’s half-full glass, and Tony raises his brows at the other.

“Yes?”

“Do I call you Sir or Tony?”

“Hm,” Tony puts his cup down, his hand meeting his chin in a contemplative gesture, “I like both. One is the name I chose for myself, the other is the one you chose for me. Don’t worry about it, I’ll listen to either one. Anthony means _priceless_ , you know, what does Jarvis mean?”

“Something with a spear,” Jarvis replies, shrugging a little, “some sources say it’s _servant spear_ , others just admit the meaning isn’t fully certain.”

“Servant spear,” Tony parrots, “not bad, for you, I think. A little awkward with it’s old-fashionedness, but otherwise, cool.”

Finally, Jarvis returns to his seat, wondering how long it’s going to take until he is no longer baffled by just about everything Tony says or does. He does not at all act like someone that is still getting used to being human. “So, how did this happen?”

“The human thing?” A huff of breath, then Tony puts his head in his hands, fixing Jarvis with his gaze. “I don’t know a lot more than you do, I think. Woke up in the middle of the night with this weird-- _tingling_ everywhere.”

“Tingling,” Jarvis echoes, remembering the tingling feeling he felt after meeting the strange woman in the booth near Chinatown. He’d come home, not thinking any of it, petting Sir… “oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_. So I woke up, feeling strange and a little stiff everywhere, which is unusual, cats can sleep in all positions without ever getting a crick in the neck or something, so I stretched, and I just-- stretched on and on? I don’t know, I just, suddenly I was looking at my hands, and they were, you know, hands, and everything looked much darker, human eyes are useless in the night, though the colors are pretty cool, and I’ll admit it was a bit disorienting at first, having to walk around without a tail, but I practiced a bit after the tingling bit was over, walked around, opened cupboards, tested the bathroom sink-- oh, I might have tried using your toothbrush.”

“Right.” Jarvis mentally adds _toothbrush_ to his shopping list, not otherwise reacting to the story. He feels he knows what happened, while simultaneously not having a clue. He drops his face in his hands, inwardly despairing. _Did I wish for this?_

“Hey,” it’s Tony that startles Jarvis out of his thoughts, with a simple, sudden brush of a hand against his shoulder, and before Jarvis can complain about how the other moved without a single sound, he finds himself locking eyes with the other, and Tony looks almost - _worried_ , “that look on your face, I don’t like it.”

Somehow, Tony convinces Jarvis that leaving him alone in the apartment would be the greater disaster than taking the other with him for the shopping trip, and Jarvis is not in the least surprised when he begins regretting that decision, losing Tony in the shopping centre multiple times and finding him playing with nail cutters, a microwave, on one memorable occasion even catching Tony right before the other can spray himself in the face with deodorant.

It’s exhausting, it slows Jarvis down, and the way he has to apologize multiple times to the personnel is more than a little embarrassing, but at the same time, Jarvis finds himself _enjoying_ the other being around, Tony’s carefree attitude and curiosity about the most mundane things.

Maybe it’s time to find a shrink. Apparently, Jarvis wished for this, and that can hardly be normal, right?

“I don’t like your thinking face,” Tony informs him on the way back to the apartment, and Jarvis frowns.

“My thinking face?”

“Yes! Exactly _that_ face. It means no good things, like you’re thinking you already fed me and if you fill the bowl up again I’ll spontaneously combust or something.”

Jarvis doesn’t actually have any kind of response at the ready for that, so he just blinks at the other instead. Until Tony huffs, putting his hands on his hips.

“Do I have to drag it out of you like the guts out of a fish? Fine, then: what _are_ you thinking so hard about, mister?”

“Oh…” _how I am possibly deranged, how magic apparently exists, how my birthday wish was you in human form,_ “no, it’s nothing.”

Tony deflates visibly, but Jarvis is too relieved that the subject is dropped to register how the disappointment is coming off of the other in almost tangible waves.

Maybe if he had spent more attention to the atmosphere shifting, to Tony becoming quieter, the evening back at the apartment wouldn’t have spiralled quite that far out of control as it did. Not that it looked like trouble was brewing - Tony was enthusiastic enough about dinner that he offered to help Jarvis cook, and then kept turning the heat up too far _repeatedly_ , apparently of the opinion that he wants to eat as quickly as possible and gaining a few more seconds is worth burning food down to charcoal, and he chattered on freely during the meal, too.

Besides, it was an absent comment Jarvis made when looking down at the cat food and bowls.

“I will miss my cat.”

Tony’s eyes became small slits, but his voice didn’t sound particularly upset when he replied “will you?”, and Jarvis looked up, confused, when Tony left the room - to come back with the kitty litter box, stride determined.

“What are you doing?”

“Apparently you need a reminder that I’m right here,” Tony hisses - actually _hisses_ \- not slowing down in the least, brushing past Jarvis and throwing the balcony door open, cool night air immediately entering. Some part of Jarvis recognises that thinking Tony will just put the litter box on the balcony is wishful thinking, and hurries after the other, arriving just in time to see Tony drop the litter box off the balcony, and looking back at Jarvis the way someone does when they know from the look on your face they did _wrong_ but refuse to admit it just yet.

“Tony, you can’t just _throw things off the balcony!_ ” Jarvis’ voice is rising in volume, and it’s with equal parts satisfaction and guilt that he sees the other flinch at it. “What were you _thinking?_ Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

He can’t see Tony’s eyes anymore at that point, the other having dropped his head, mumbling something so low Jarvis doesn’t catch any of it. “What was that?”

“I said,” and when Tony raises his eyes, his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and that’s it, now Jarvis feels _terrible_ , “I can when you think I’m invisible, or not there, or somehow completely unrelated to your black cat! Who am I? To you? A nobody? A stray? Are you gonna forget how-- how we lived together for the last year and throw me out because you don’t _recognize me any more?_ ”

His voice breaks a little at the end and Tony sniffles, looking away. Jarvis reacts without thinking, knowing he needs to fix this, pulling Tony inside by his arm and closing the balcony door behind them.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, before, about missing my cat. Tony, I wasn’t thinking.”

Jarvis’ hand is still on Tony’s arm, and when their eyes meet, Jarvis lets go again.

“But if I say something hurtful, it’s better if you just step forward and _tell_ me, so I can apologise to you, alright? Imagine if that litter box had fallen on somebody’s head, Tony, they could’ve died.”

“I don’t care about _someone_ ,” and there’s venom in Tony’s voice, “I don’t like people. Just--”

“You… Tony, you’re _people_ now.”

“Well,” a shrug, “nobody said I like myself a whole lot, either.”

A blink, and Jarvis opens his mouth - but he has no words at the ready for that kind of balled-up honesty thrown at him as casually as if Tony just confessed to not liking broccoli a whole lot.

“I don’t like people, I just-- there’s just you. You’re pretty cool. But I, but I don’t have anyone or anywhere else, so, that’s kind of important, because if I don’t have you, what am I gonna do?”

“Tony,” the murmur has escaped Jarvis before he’s consciously decided to speak up, and when Tony looks at him, eyes wide with a hundred unspoken emotions, the blond does what seems logical - walking towards the other and wrapping him in a hug. “People aren’t all bad. Even if all your experiences say otherwise,” Tony tentatively wraps his arms around Jarvis in return, “you’ve got to give them a chance. You just have had bad luck with people, okay? That doesn’t mean you have an excuse to _not care_ if you hurt _anyone_. Anyone could be someone I like. Could be someone that has a cat to feed at home. Could be someone you could be friends with, given time. Do you understand that?”

“M not stupid,” comes the mumbled reply.

“Yes, but do you understand?”

“I could’ve hit a kid with that litter box that might’ve grown up into you,” Tony says, still mumbling, “or just someone good. So, yes, I understand.”

“Good.” Jarvis detaches himself, carefully, giving Tony a raised eyebrow. “And now we’re going down there together and clean up your mess.”

Tony only complains a little.

-

“You’re in my bed.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not naked. See?” Tony throws the cover back, indicating his briefs. “Totally dressed!”

Jarvis can’t help the smile. “I would hardly go that far, _Sir_.”

“Hm, I like when your voice does that teasing thing. Now come ‘ere. I want cuddles and pets before sleep.”

But still, Jarvis hesitates, and Tony cracks his eyes open again from where he’s lying in perfectly ready for cuddles position, pouting. “What’s the hold up?”

“I don’t… this is a little strange, isn’t it?”

“Why?”

“It’s just so…” Jarvis struggles with words at the moment, and none of the options his brain offers up really seems to fit, “...intimate.”

“Yes, so what? You like cuddles, I like cuddles, I like you-- do you not like me, Jarvis?”

“Of course I do,” and nobody is as surprised by that admittance as Jarvis is.

“Well, then, I do not see your problem, and your stick-in-the-mud attitude is depriving me of precious snuggle seconds, so get in bed or I’ll get _seriously_ uncomfortable.”

That’s not a warning Jarvis feels like testing, so he does hurry to slip into his side of the bed, and when Tony is immediately right _there_ , snuggling into his chest - well, he weirdly finds he doesn’t really mind it, after all.

-

The next day, Tony demands Jarvis to teach him about “those signs”, holding up an encyclopedia of computer science. It takes their combined effort about ten minutes until Tony has the alphabet down well enough to figure out by himself how to write his name, and, unsatisfied with the result, the man-cat starts to determinedly copy down the encyclopedia, word by word.

It’s two hours later that Tony claims he’s on page 89 and both of his hands are hurting, because apparently being a cat-turned-human means you’re predestined to be perfectly ambidextrous and scarily fast at picking up anything. _Or maybe that’s just Sir,_ Jarvis catches himself thinking, as he sees Tony soak up every bit of knowledge he can during the next day, and soon with the aid of the internet.

He seems fascinated by computers and keeps asking Jarvis questions about his work, which the blond replies to with no small bit of satisfaction - until he guiltily remembers that maybe Tony is only that way because Jarvis wished for it, some kind of forced characteristic. It is true that it feels nice to have someone that cares about what most people would write off as inane technobabble, and Tony seems to downright crave it.

So naturally, Jarvis slips. “What if you only like computers because of me?”

Tony looks up from where he’s just prying open the case of Jarvis’ smartphone, blinking at the blond, then looking back at the circuitry laid out before him. It’s a testament to how important Tony deems the issue after looking at Jarvis’ face when he puts everything he’s worked on aside, though Jarvis only feels profoundly uncomfortable with having the other’s full focus on himself in that instance.

“Context, Jay, give it to me.”

And Jarvis finally tells the other about what happened on his birthday, and how he believes Tony is only Tony because he has been made after the image of Jarvis’ wish (and what does that say about Jarvis, that his wish was a naked, handsome man with a perfectly trimmed goatee?).

Jarvis doesn’t look at Tony while he talks, and Tony lets Jarvis ramble on for a moment, until his hand is suddenly on Jarvis mouth, the other holding the blond’s head in place, leaving Jarvis no choice but to shut up and look at the other with wide, surprised eyes.

“Okay, so maybe I am _human_ because of something that happened to you. Why not? I can hardly have done that myself. But you thinking I’m _myself_ because of you? That’s just incredibly self-centered of you, J.” Tony lets go, taking a step back, holding Jarvis’ gaze. “I’ve been born a cat. When I changed, I lost some things - supreme sense of balance, soft fur everywhere, the ability to sleep on the floor 18 hours a day without any discomfort, but I also gained some things. Thumbs, a human voice, the means to learn how to read and handle a computer.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “My personality? Hasn’t changed. Why am I so fascinated with computers? Because they’re so _logical_ , Jarvis. I don’t know, there’s something about being able to pick something apart and put it back together and it all just _working_ and to understand how it works-- I like computers. I also like numbers, physics, blueberries, but I _hate_ that abomination you call tea. I mean-- long story short, I am me, and you’re gonna have to suck it up and take it and not make it all about you and your, whatever this is, a guilty conscience over nothing any of us can influence in any way? I enjoy this. So shut up and let me enjoy it without thinking that I’ve been somehow _mind-raped_ to like it. Seriously.”

“I am not actually sure that whole speech did anything to disprove my point,” Jarvis offers, tentatively.

“Jarvis, I will hit you.”

And then, somehow, Jarvis smiles, feeling the weight take off his shoulders. Maybe it’s just because he shared his worries, maybe Tony thinking his worries are _stupid_ and _pointless_ allows Jarvis to see it from the same angle, maybe it’s just Tony’s general influence.

But it’s good.

-

One day, when Jarvis gets home from work, he only has enough time to shrug off his jacket before Tony is right there, and grabbing Jarvis’ willy right through his pants. Jarvis shrieks.

Tony just looks up at him, blinking innocently. “Hi.”

“What-- what are you _doing?_ ”

“I discovered gay porn, figured I’d test some of the stuff on you.”

For a couple moments, all Jarvis can do is work his jaw, needing some time to compute all of that information - but when Tony raises his hand to Jarvis’ zipper, the blond snaps back to the present.

“No.” All things considered, Jarvis is proud that his voice manages to sound serious and vaguely threatening even while he himself is still floundering. “Let go, Tony.”

Tony does - but he sits back on his haunches, tilting his head in a question at the other. “No blow jobs?”

“Definitely no blow jobs.” Jarvis hopes he isn’t blushing. Sometimes, Tony’s straightforwardness still manages to surprise him.

“Why not?”

“Because… you know, I need a cup of tea for this conversation.”

“Hm, alright, but I want a hot chocolate.”

It doesn’t take long for Jarvis to prepare a cup of tea - chamomile, calming on the nerves - and a hot chocolate for Tony, and Tony doesn’t even wait to lick off the milk foam off his lips after the first sip of his drink before he asks the question again.

“So, why?”

“Because I’m asexual.”

A couple blinks, then Tony furrows his brows. “You’re… _not_ sexual?”

“Yes, see, it means that I’m simply not interested in having sex--”

“Wow, wait, have you been neutered, too?”

Jarvis doesn’t spew his tea across the table, but he would have, if he had been drinking in the moment Tony said that. “Neutered?” _Oh lord._ “You… you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves his hands, impatiently, “snip snap, balls cut off. Happened when I was a couple months old. Be grateful, I never had the urge to pee in a corner to mark my territory - neither did I ever grow interested in putting my barbed dick into someone. Well,” Tony gracefully ignores Jarvis’ sputtering, “ _former_ barbed dick. Obviously the human one doesn’t come with those. I thought maybe that’s why everybody on the internet talks about sex as the best thing to ever have come from the big bang.”

“Humans do have sex for fun,” Jarvis ventures, unsure of how to go about this topic, and preferring not to think about anyone’s _barbed dick_ for the sake of his sanity, “some choose not to. Others have no desire to. That last one means asexual, it’s… it’s not related to neutering. I’m sorry?”

Tony looks amused at that, tilting his head. “For what, my balls? I was a couple months old. Ages ago, really. Besides, it’s humans that somehow seem to think balls are in any way important. As long as you don’t want kittens, who needs ‘em?”

“If you still want to experiment gay porn…”

“Geez, Jarvis, I would not put my hands on anybody else’s dick. Only yours. The uninterested one. Which suits me fine, by the way, since I’m apparently asexual-via-neutering.”

“Please never say you’ve been neutered to anyone who doesn’t know you’ve been a cat.”

“Well, in case I get kidnapped by some terrorists, I’ll tell the police they cut my balls off, and ta-da, a life of prison awaits them, for kidnapping and mutilating. Everyone will think they’re evil bastards, right? Ever thought about how unfair it is you do this to cats _every day_ and no vet goes to prison for it?”

-

It probably shouldn’t have surprised Jarvis, but living with his cat-turned-human was, all in all, very easy and comfortable, despite Tony’s exhausting tendencies. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Tony, who decided long ago he _likes_ living with Jarvis, acts like this is the most normal thing they could be doing and _Jarvis feed me!_

Really, it doesn’t occur to him what a strange relationship they have - until Pepper comes to visit them, and enlightens them both. Tony, of course, has already decided he likes Pepper before he went from four paws to sets of feet and hands, and she seems equally bemused and charmed by his - admittedly - eccentric behaviour, so it catches both Jarvis and Tony off guard when she tells them that they’re doing things all wrong.

“You’re basically a freeloader,” she tells Tony, who blinks at her, then slowly turns to look at Jarvis, “and from what I gathered, you’re completely dependent on Jarvis, aren’t you?”

“Uh?” Tony is still looking at Jarvis, but there is no help forthcoming.

“Really, even considering that Jarvis is very good at saving and you can live off his wallet comfortably for a good while, it makes you a parasite. At least you should attempt to get a job.”

“A job? Like what?”

“You know, he’s smart, good with computers,” Jarvis finally interjects, leaning forward excitedly, “all he lacks is the proper degree-- you could go into engineering, Tony. I’d support you, you can pay me back later.”

Pepper raises an elegant eyebrow, but doesn’t otherwise voice her scepticism. If Jarvis wants to go two steps farther than anyone else would go, she won’t be the one to rain on his parade.

“Nice, I wanna study mechanical engineering. Can I do electrical engineering, too?”

“Maybe I can look into scholarships,” Pepper offers.

“Pepper, would you be willing to help us get some papers?”

“He means I need a fake ID, fake passport, fake birth certificate--”

“Oh my god.”

Tony gets his papers a week later, with a note from Pepper saying _‘For a good cause. Don’t do anything stupid.’_

Not much later, Tony gives the papers to Jarvis. “If I do anything stupid with this, I’m afraid Pep will put her high heel through my throat, and I’ve almost made paper planes out of them twice, so you keep them.”

-

“Hey, Jarvis? I reached out to my contacts in MIT.”

Jarvis looks up from his work, looking at a smiling Pepper. “You have contacts in MIT?”

“Turns out there’s a new president. He did his MBA with me. Yes, I have contacts in MIT.”

“Congratulations,” Jarvis replies dryly, raising his eyebrows in a clear invitation for her to get to the point.

“I told him about your prodigy - _self-taught,_ I told him, _no financial means, incredibly gifted,_ he must think I’m half in love with your boy from way I kept gushing about him.”

“And?” It’s obvious Pepper has Jarvis’ full attention now, alone by the way the blond is leaning forward in his seat, and Pepper smirks and lowers her voice to a whisper.

“ _And_ I got him to agree that Tony can prove himself. It’ll be a lesson, in front of a few professors, he’ll have to answer questions, present some formulas, and if they all agree he _should_ get to study at the institute, they’ll take him. Including prestigious scholarship. You’re welcome.”

Jarvis hugs her, then, and Pepper laughs when he tells her that he’ll be in her debt forever and she is _magic_.

-

“...the amount of heat required to raise the temperature of the unit mass of gas through one degree at constant volume. Simply put, specific heat at constant volume. Especially fascinating when melting stuff, if I can use your laboratory, I can show you gentlemen how to--”

“Thank you, Mr Stark.”

“Alright, your loss. Another formula?”

Tony seems positively on _fire_ , and it is obvious to Jarvis, who watches from the back of the room, that the other _really_ wants this. Only drawback is that Tony really doesn’t talk to the professors in front of him the way one is supposed to talk to professors (though Jarvis has gone through the principles of good manners about a hundred times with him - at this point, it’s just Tony _choosing_ not to be as polite as he could be, but then, neither is he being as impolite as he could be).

Jarvis realises he’s drifted when the next thing he notices is Tony bounding up to him and _hugging_ him right then and there, and the blond reflexively returns the hug, noticing now that the professors have either left or are leaving.

“What did they say?”

“That I need to work on my tendency to go terribly off-subject - though I don’t know what they have to complain about, thermodynamics on its own is cool, but it gets way better when you pair it up with machine design, and then going over to hydraulics is just _natural_ \--”

“Tony,” Jarvis interrupts, almost laughing, but also dying to know, “what did they _say_ about the scholarship?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Tony draws back enough to grin at Jarvis, and the blond feels his heart skip a beat. “I got in! They take me. I can go to school, get a more impressive degree than you do--”

“Unlikely, I graduated summa cum laude.”

“-- _I’ll get a more impressive degree than you do_ , just you wait, I’ll have _two_ degrees summa cum laude, and then I’ll make tons of money and I can take you to Europe! I wanna go to Europe. And, Jarvis, thank you.”

“This was more Pepper--”

“I don’t mean _this_. Well, yes, I mean this, but not _only_ , I mean other stuff as well, I mean, you’ve been so good to me from the beginning, so patient, and it’s only thanks to you that I am here and I get to do all of this and just, thank you!”

Jarvis feels his face split into a grin, and the words slip out of his mouth before he realises what he’s going to say: “I love you too.”

There’s a pause, and Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “That wasn’t a love confession.”

“Oh.” Already Jarvis can feel his cheeks colouring, opening his mouth to apologise, but Tony doesn’t let him.

  
“This is: I like you better than catmint.”

**Author's Note:**

> Because I enjoy messing with people's expectations of kitty fics, and the "my cat turned human and now we're having sexitimes" trope just asks to be put on its head. It just does.
> 
> This was a Christmas gift to Cat (the captain of this account) by Genie (second-in-command). Because yes, we're sharing an account, shh.


End file.
